Empty Bottles
by Insidiae
Summary: /'You look good in red.'/ Even China had his limits, and Russia pushed too much. Eventually, someone was going to break, and China wasn't going to let it be him. RussiaChina. Oneshot.


Hey check it out. I'm writing for Hetalia now. Uh.

I was originally inspired by a prompt on the kink meme, but then it was from like, two years ago, so I was like, fuck it, I'll write on my own.

AAAAAND HERE IT IS OH BOY ARE YOU EXCITED OR WHAT.

...Just ignore me.

_

* * *

1919_

China lies in bed, unable to move a single muscle. He has been this sick before, back when the Mongols invaded, back when opium flowed through his veins, but never has it felt so final. Four thousand years of life and vibrancy, and China fears that this may actually be the end.

"Why is China looking so sick?"

China cracks an eye open. He recognizes the voice, of course, but finds it hard to believe that the larger nation is really there. "What are you doing here?"

Russia pulls up a chair and sits next to China's bed. His shadow falls over the Asian nation and China feels so very small in his presence. "I am hearing that China is sick, so I am coming to visit."

"The students are rioting," China says, "and they have every reason to. Even after I helped them, France and England are thinking of giving Shandong to Japan! My Jinan! My Qufu! My _cities!"_

Russia looks apologetic. "I do not know these places."

"Qufu is the birthplace of Confucius," China explains. "He's my greatest thinker. His temple still stands in the city. His philosophy is a guiding light, even today."

"Philosophers are very important," Russia agrees, a dark look coming over his face. China ponders the change in his expression, but is overcome with terrible pain before he can dwell too long on it.

"Not only that," he adds with a groan, "but the warlords are fighting for power and are failing to keep the country together. I'm falling apart." Another shiver of agony runs through him. "I feel like I'm dying."

"Maybe China _is_ dying," Russia replies. "Maybe China is just too old, like Greece's mama or Italy's grandpa. They got too old, and just disappeared."

China moans.

"Maybe not." Russia frowns and runs a hand through China's hair. China is too weak to protest. "Zhong Guo. Great Country. Surviving for so long, it'd be silly to die now, da?"

China is surprised to hear his name is own language, but only manages to say, "You got the tones wrong, aru."

Russia, amazingly, laughs. "I am sorry. The sounds of your language are difficult." Removing his hand from China, he says, "Hey, China. I have an idea."

China raises an eyebrow. It's about all he can do.

"I'll help you out," Russia says, "and then later, when I'm in trouble, you'll help me out."

China agrees without thinking. Anything not to die.

"Wonderful," Russia says, and then passes him a book. "In the meantime, one of my favorite books to keep you entertained."

Russia leaves, then, and China looks down. In his hands, he holds _The State and Revolution,_ by Vladimir Lenin.

* * *

_1921_

Russia places a hammer in one of China's hands, and a sickle in the other.

"What am I to do with these?" asks China.

Russia says, "Work."

* * *

_1937_

Russia admires the blush that colours China's skin. "You look good in red," he says as he runs his thumb over the tip of the other nation's cock.

China pistons his hips into Russia's hand without thinking, but scowls when he understands the numerous implications of the Eurasian's statement. "I've been wearing red for centuries," he argues between pants. "It was a symbol of power in my house long before you or your Communism."

Russia smiles benevolently, twists his wrist, and watches as China comes. He says, "It looks better on you now."

* * *

_1945_

Russia runs a finger down China's back, tracing the new, puckered scar that stretches across Nanjing.

China winces. "Don't look at it."

"We have lost much, comrade," Russia murmurs, pulling China close to him, wrapping arms around his thin waist.

"My people are dying," China cries. Beijing beats weakly in his chest. "My people are dead."

"Not yet," Russia says, "Not yet."

* * *

_1950_

"I'm concerned about my new boss," China admits softly. Russia holds China's small hand to his frozen mouth and kisses each knuckle.

"What is seeming to be the issue?"

"He has this plan," China says. "The scientists, and the thinkers, he… and of course, I won't disagree with him, he's my boss, but-"

"I am not seeing the problem," Russia interrupts. "Your boss is doing a good thing. Long be living the worker."

"Long live the worker," China whispers back. Russia kisses the back of his neck, and for the first time in a long time, China knows fear.

* * *

_1956_

"Did you know, China?" Russia asks lightly. "My blood is redder than anyone else's." With the ragged edge of his steel pipe, he draws a gash into his arm. The cut misses the important veins and arteries, but is still deep enough that the blood flows freely. "To me, it means that I have been working very hard. What does it mean to you?"

China watches the scarlet liquid stream down the pale arm. "It means you are the strongest."

Russia brings the pipe to China's arm and makes a similar cut. The Asian nation doesn't even flinch. "Your blood is very red as well," Russia coos.

China says, "I've been working hard, too."

Russia says, "You are also strong."

He brings his arm to China's mouth, and China mirrors the movement. They lick at each other's wounds.

China tastes Russia blood on his tongue and knows this has gone too far. He has to get out.

* * *

_1962_

"You're nuts!" China screams. "You are absolutely out of your mind, and you're going to get us all killed!"

Russia raises an eyebrow, looking for all the world bemused. "I was not expecting China to visit my house after saying – what was it? Oh yes. That I had moved from adventurism to capitulationism."

"That was my boss, not me," China argues, then shakes his head. "And that's not the point! The point as that you are going to destroy the entire world with this stupid Cold War of yours! Cuba? _Really?_ What are you thinking!"

Russia shrugs his shoulders. "It will be fine. America will eventually stop making his bombs, and it will be fine."

China scowls. "And what if he doesn't?"

"He will," Russia asserts. "He will, and then everyone will become one with Russia."

China stares at him, aghast. _What has happened to you?_

* * *

_1991_

China grimaces as he steps his way through discarded glass bottles, the smell of vodka still hanging strongly in the air. In the center of his bedroom, Russia sits in a uncomfortable-looking chair, another bottle in his hand.

"You're pathetic," China says.

Russia looks up. His eyes are bleary with alcohol. "What is China doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," China says quickly. The stench of vodka fills the air, and he scrunches his nose against the smell. "Look at you. Look at what you've become. Where's your precious Soviet Union now?"

"Gone," Russia slurs. "All gone. Belarus and Ukraine and Estonia and Lithuania and little Latvia, all gone, gone, gone. All left me." He throws down the bottle in his fist, and it shatters against the floor. He stares at China and says, "You left me."

"You gave me no choice."

"There's always a choice." China can't help but notice how lucid Russia sounds, despite his inebriation.

He starts to back away. Bottles clink beneath his feet. _Empty bottles make the most noise,_ he thinks. He says, "I'm leaving now."

"Come back to me," Russia pleads, but China is gone, gone, gone.

* * *

_And Beyond_

Another World Meeting, another day spent avoiding one another. It's been years since China had a proper conversation with Russia, so why he is now walking up to the larger man is a bit beyond him.

"Hello, China," Russia says. He smiles, and it is soft and sad and manic, like all things with Russia are. "It's been a while."

China can't help but think but think that he sounds more mature now – that he has lost the childish style of speaking that made China so uneasy in the past. "Yes, well," he says distractedly, "_Mei Guo_ has been keeping me busy."

A darkness falls over Russia's face. "A stupid name for a stupid country full of stupid people." His understanding of Mandarin once again surprises China. "There's nothing beautiful about a country so full of idiots. I especially am disliking that Alaska woman who says she can see me from her house."

China laughs then, to his own surprise, because there are few things he despises more at this point than his former ally.

"There is nothing beautiful about America," Russia repeats. He looks straight at China and says, "You are beautiful."

The Asian nation crosses his arms and snorts. "You won't be catching me with pretty words."

Russia smiles benevolently. "I can try."

And then China allows himself to smile, because for the first time in a long, he feels it is finally safe to do so.

* * *

FFFF GOD YOU GUYS I DON'T EVEN. Like I know history lololol.

Comments and criticisms make the authoress happy in her pantalones!

-Insidiae-


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